THE CALABASH OF WOUNDS



She was my pride
In the series of laughs
She promised to be my bride
I would still hold my cross-staffs
High to know where my leading star lies
I never knew the time of my Last swallow
I held my head high only to see blissful flies
I could beg even if it meant rolling on a wallow

My traditional hope proved the hardest vanity
She meant business on a contract marriage
Interests based only on a wealth parity
Every pregnancy pointed miscarriage
She began to lay out sharp decoys
I lied low despite the commotion
She played with me like toys
Apparently no promotion

She didn’t have a clue
I realised her dirty secrets
She was stuck to her like a glue
I used to see them in private streets
She chose her female lover over my love
I had to accept that there’s sexual diversity
But I had no idea how to silent the mourning dove
It seemed I couldn’t survive the shock of adversity

How do I get out of this cryptic world without help?
There’s no shortcut in treating the same wound
I’m utilising my chances but am just a whelp
To find out more about the arduous bound
There’s no bubbles of hope in this drop
How do I bounce back to my place?
I must plant an enormous crop
And develope a new trace.

About the Author

Leave a Reply

You may also like these

error: Content is protected !!

Discover more from Osprey Empire

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading